


Superiority Complex

by SteveDoesCosplay



Category: Iron Man (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Superior Iron Man - Fandom
Genre: Dark Tony Stark, Dubious Consent, Extremis, Kidnapped Peter Parker, M/M, Mind Control, Peter Parker Whump, Superior Iron Man, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23476210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteveDoesCosplay/pseuds/SteveDoesCosplay
Summary: Tony Stark always got what he wanted and ever since returning from the ruined city of San Francisco, all he wanted was his little Spider under his thumb and by his side.Rating may go up as the story progresses.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 143





	1. Modern Collaring

In retrospect, maybe heading up to the top of Stark Tower by himself, with no backup, and no plan, hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had. But hindsight was twenty twenty and Peter Parker couldn’t just back down now after scaling Stark Tower in broad daylight. So instead, he stood tall, facing the man who wore the face of his childhood hero from a time long past. He couldn’t afford to show any weakness, given that the man in front of him could probably smell any self doubt or fear from a mile away on his person. So he steeled himself, puffing out his chest as he tightened the fists at his sides, thankful for the mask shielding his face. “Long time no see,” Peter stated, impressed that his voice hadn’t wobbled.

“Ah, Mister Parker, I’ve been expecting you,” a deep baritone voice mused before they took a long sip of what Peter could only assume was some ridiculously expensive scotch. Peter almost flinched, looking a little away as he tried to reign in his racing heart. He had to remember that this wasn’t the man that he’d known all those years ago. That man would never have done what the man in front of him did. He wouldn’t have destroyed San Francisco in the name of progress. “I assume with your sudden appearance that you received the gift I had left for you?”

Peter had to fight the urge to wring his hands together, taking just a moment to remind himself that the man that he’d known had deep coffee brown eyes instead of a bright unsettling blue. “I’m giving you one chance to make this right.” Maybe it was the fact that once upon a time, Iron Man had saved his life. Or maybe it was because deep down, Peter wanted to believe that there was something good still there deep down, just waiting for Peter to drag it out.

“So I take it that you didn’t like it?” Tony mused, not even glancing in Peter’s direction as he swirled the contents in the glass loosely gripped in his hands. “A shame. I made it special, just for you.”

The thought that the man in front of him had thought that Peter would like Extremis was honestly a joke. He’d found a small silver box with a ribbon the same unsettling blue as Tony’s eyes with the note ‘Perfection in a bottle. Let me fix you.’ As if Peter would willingly take whatever the hell had actually been in the little vial. It didn’t matter if it was or wasn’t Extremis, Peter had thrown the box and it’s unassuming contents right out of his window, only satisfied when he’d heard the telltale sound of glass shattering on the pavement below. “I’m not the one that needs to be fixed, Stark.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully before finally glancing up at the other man. “What makes you so sure about that, Parker?” he asked before finally getting up from the couch he had been sitting lazily on, slowly striding over to Peter. “Because from what I’ve seen, you need even more fixing than Daredevil did and he is actually blind. But it’s alright sweetheart. I’ll fix you. You don’t have to worry about a thing, I have everything you’ll ever need to be your best self.”

Peter frowned heavily as he took a step back the way he’d come. His spidey sense had been steadily going off the whole time he’d been in the room with the man but now it was roaring in his head like a siren. Deafening. The whole thing had Peter more on edge than before as he took another step back. “I don’t need fixing, Stark. Stay away from me. I didn’t come here to fight you.” That was the truth, as terribly planned as it was. But he’d seen the videos of Stark fighting Daredevil, and he knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to fight his way out the conventional way. If he had to fight though, he would. He was Spider-Man, and he wasn’t about to back down from a fight, even if it was with a man that he had once looked up to almost like a father.

The other man didn’t seem to mind that Peter was slowly retreating, like he was unafraid of anything Peter could potentially do. His smile was ominous and it left a bitter taste in the back of Peter’s throat. He almost looked like he wanted to eat him alive, but that wasn’t too far from the truth was it?

“It’s okay sweetheart, I promise I’ll make it all better,” Stark hummed as he smiled like a shark, his hand brushing down Peter’s face. It was at that moment that his spidey sense went up a notch and he noticed that his body was essentially rooted to the floor by some unseen force. He almost missed the man’s last words through the ringing in his ears before he blacked out. “You’ll see, I just want what’s best for you, Pete.”

And then there was nothing but an unnatural darkness. There was nothing to see, but that didn’t mean it was silent. Peter wished it was. All he heard was unintelligible whispers, echoing all around him, making it impossible for him to understand what any of them were saying. He wondered, briefly, if this was what hell felt like, before he remembered that it couldn’t possibly be any worse than the reality of what was sure to greet him when he opened his eyes.

***

The first thing Peter noticed when he regained consciousness was that whatever he was laying on had to be the softest thing to exist. It took him a few seconds to realize that whatever it was was in fact not his bed, because he didn’t have the money to be able to afford something so frivolous. Most of his money went towards feeding himself and his shitty little hole in the wall apartment that was nothing more than a glorified shoebox. This bed made it feel like he was floating and it made it so difficult to stay focused on the task of waking up and figuring out what was happening to him. Or had happened to him, he just didn’t know with Stark-

Upon remembering why he had even come here in the first place, he bolted up in bed, his arms immediately protesting the movement as the sound of clinking chains echoed in the room. Startled, Peter turned to look at his wrists, indeed finding them chained to the bed. The second thing he realized, was that this skin felt like it was crawling, as if his whole body was on pins and needles. It was disorientating and confusing, seeing as how he didn’t remember Tony drugging him in order to knock him out, but he must have right? Otherwise why would he be feeling like this?

“Oh, you’re finally awake. I had been concerned that you weren’t planning on waking up at all. You my dear, are an enigma. I had to make a special strand just for you, but it was definitely worth it. Don’t worry though, you were already physically perfect, I hadn’t had to change anything there,” a deep voice mused, making Peter frantically look around him. His eyes almost swept over Stark, his posture showing nothing but nonchalance. “I’m sorry I had to chain you down. I hadn’t wanted to, but you wouldn’t stop fighting. You don’t have to worry though, they’re designed to withstand stronger than you.”

Peter blinked at the man standing next to the bed who looked almost bored as he typed away on a Starkpad. “You…” he started to say, his voice scratchy and irritated, as if he hadn’t said anything in days. Or he’d been screaming for days, it was hard to tell the difference when everything felt off center and wrong. “What did you do to me?” he demanded as he jerked in his bindings, as if his sheer force of will would break through the cool metal.

Tony smirked at him as he finally put his Starkpad down, giving Peter his full and undivided attention. “What didn’t I do to you? Tell me… How much did you actually read about San Francisco? Did you read about how the whole city got Extremis?” The way Peter paled was answer enough as he jerked in his bindings again. “I went through the water supply, if you’ll recall. I didn’t do that here. No, I instead, sent it into the atmosphere on a cloudy day and you know what happened?”

Peter swallowed, his throat feeling tight and dry as he tried not to panic. “It rained…”

The man nodded as he continued. “Exactly. Everyone that was a human in the city gained Extremis. However, that strand doesn’t work on anyone with already altered DNA. So as soon as I got word that my little spider was protesting against me, well I had to make him a special strand, just for him. It was worth it though,” he hummed, clearly thrilled with the results in front of him.

“How…” Peter croaked, frowning when his voice cracked again. How long had he been out? How had Tony been certain that Peter had gotten his own twisted version of Extremis?

  
“How did I do it? You have a small group of friends. Mitchelle for instance, has been protesting against Extremis since before San Francisco fell. Or what about your friend Ned who tried to hack into my servers to find out where I would be contaminating the water as if I would do the same thing twice? Or even better, what about your beautiful aunt in Queens who runs the F.E.A.S.T. shelter? People fall easily to me, Parker. I only had to simply bend one of their wills a little bit to plant the virus into your coffee,” he explained, making Peter frown more heavily. “I own you now Peter.”

There was a moment of silence as Peter tugged at his bindings, dissecting each moment with his loved ones to find the one that felt off. The fact that he couldn’t place the exact moment or person was troubling, considering his circumstances. But Tony was smart, and he would have known Peter’s weaknesses because of their shared past. There was also the off chance that Tony hadn’t used any of his loved ones to begin with and was just stringing him along to plant paranoia and doubt. Tony had already planned five moves ahead before Peter had even realized a game was being played. But that wouldn’t happen again, not while he could do something about it. If he already had Extremis, he would just have to work on finding a cure, even if Stark claimed it was incurable. He wouldn’t fall like San Francisco did, not without a fight. A fair fight specifically, because he would do anything in his power to level the playing field to his advantage.

“No. You don’t,” Peter stated, voice hard as he steeled his resolve. He didn’t care that his voice was shaky at best, as Tony wasn’t offering him any water to fix that and he couldn’t exactly move from his current predicament. “I used to look up to you.”

Tony moved himself so that he was seated on the bed next to Peter, ruffling up his hair for a moment as the younger tried to jerk away. “No matter. I do in fact own you now. Don’t worry, you won’t be getting away from me again, Peter. Not this time. I can assure you of that,” he stated as he got up from the bed to grab something off of a little table next to the bed that Peter hadn’t realized was there. When he came back to the bed he was holding a little black box. “I made this for you,” was all Stark said on the matter as he opened the box and pulled out a slim silver bracelet. It almost looked like a fitbit but that didn’t make Peter’s spidey sense feel any better about it. Stark didn’t even hesitate as he gently took the innocent looking bracelet and grabbed Peter’s hand, quickly securing the inconspicuous band around his wrist before he moved to undo the chains. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Peter openly stared at the bracelet, furrowing his eyebrows as his spidey sense went startlingly silent. “...This is a power dampener, isn’t it?” he croaked, his hands shaking as they were released from their bindings.

“Yes. Among other things,” he agreed as he got up from the bed, grabbing his Starkpad as he made his way out of the room. “Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, you’re mine now, Peter. And I intend to keep you.” And then he closed the door behind him, leaving Peter alone in an almost empty room while he listened to the sound of a lock engaging.

There were a few moments of shaken silence before the tears started rolling down Peter’s face. He couldn’t believe this. Sure, he had known that the chances were slim that the man that he’d looked up to would realize the error of his ways just from a talking to from Peter, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t still hurt. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, holding his wrist to his chest as he cried his heart and soul out. There were no windows, and there was nothing in the small room that hinted at what time it could possibly be.  
Was Stark planning on leaving him alone in this room for the rest of forever? He wasn’t some prize to be won, but what did he know? If he had known any better, he would have gone to anyone for help. Captain America or Black Widow. Someone was better than no one but he hadn’t thought that he would end up in this kind of situation, that the man would sink low enough to hold Peter against his will in some basement, alone and powerless.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the little slit on the bottom of his door was opened and a tray of food was pushed through. Peter didn’t bother getting off the bed, even if it was enough to startle him out of crying. He couldn’t just… Sit here and wait for the man to come back and let him out. He’d have to get out himself, seeing as how he hadn’t told anyone where he was going or who he was planning on seeing. So therefore, no one was about to come and rescue him, because no one knew that he even needed to be rescued in the first place.

So he took a deep breath before shakily getting off the bed. His legs gave out on him, splaying him across the floor until he scrambled to his shaky legs. “Come on, Parker, you’ve got this. This is a cakewalk. Sure it’s looking a little sticky, but you’ve had to get out of worse,” Peter told himself as he took a few deep breaths, mindlessly scratching at the bracelet on his wrist.

Once he was sure his legs weren’t going to give out again he took a quick survey of his little room. Besides the bed, there really wasn’t much to look at. Everything was bolted to the floor. There was a desk (searching it revealed nothing, not even a pencil or paper), a chair at said desk, a table next to the bed, and the chair that Stark had been lounging in resting in the corner. There was a little room off to the side that had a sink, toilet, and a small shower and that was it. The man hadn’t given him anything. He supposed that the furniture was generous, considering his circumstances, but otherwise, there was nothing to occupy his racing mind.

It wasn’t until he felt something wet on his wrist that he realized that he’d mindlessly itched himself bloody. He looked down in surprise, only to come to the startling realization that he wasn’t wearing his suit anymore. Instead, he was wearing loose gray sweatpants and a soft white t-shirt. Stark must have changed him while he was out and hid his suit away. But that realization didn’t help him answer any of the questions plaguing his mind.

He took another deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. “Okay, don’t panic. Panicking never helped anyone,” Peter reminded himself, running his hands down his face before looking down at his wrist, noting that while there was still blood there, the actual marks were gone which was just unsettling. His healing factor had never worked that fast before.

“Peter, eat your dinner. I won’t tell you again,” Stark’s voice suddenly stated. Peter whipped his head around, surveying the room, but he didn’t see the man. But that only told him that the man was watching him, not that Peter was actually surprised by that information. Stark wasn’t an idiot after all, there were probably hidden cameras watching his every move. Which honestly wasn’t great for coming up with an escape plan, but it wasn’t like he could just stay here either. Spider-Man didn’t quit because things got sticky after all.  
“You can’t make me, Stark,” Peter snapped back, sitting himself back down on the bed, facing his back to the door as he crossed his arms over his chest.

There was silence for only a moment before the bracelet on Peter’s wrist glowed red. Peter didn’t have time to wonder what the sudden change in color meant before he was getting shocked. He scrambled back, falling off the bed in the process as he flailed to get the stupid device off of his wrist. When the device finally turned off, it’s color going from red back to silver, Peter was nothing more than a limp doll on the floor, panting and staring at the ceiling as tears slipped down his cheeks. “Actually Peter, I can. Do I have to come down there and convince you to eat myself? Because I will if I have to, sweetheart.”

Peter laid there on the floor for a few moments, shakily moving his arm up to wipe the tears from his face before he attempted to push himself up off the floor. “No. You probably poisoned it. Or contaminated it with drugs.” Both of which he could now see Stark doing if he’d already given him Extremis. He just didn’t know anymore and everything had him on edge even without his spidey sense buzzing in his ears.

“Now why would I go to all the trouble of making you a special strand of Extremis just to poison you?” Stark asked as he leaned over to stare at his captive on the floor. “You wanna try again, Peter? Your dinner is getting cold.”

He simply shook his head in response, his vision blurred with tears as he continued to lay there. Stark didn’t seem to be thrilled with that though as he bent down to pick Peter up. And that’s when he took his chance. Peter didn’t even hesitate to punch Tony in the face, scrambling out of his arms and kicking open the door, bolting down the hall. And while it might not have been the smartest decision, he kept running.


	2. Work to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Peter hadn't planned for this. Granted he hadn't planned at all, but that was hardly the point. The point was, that he really hadn't planned for this.

In retrospect, maybe running with no actual plan was a bad idea. It wasn’t like Stark had given him much of a choice though, all things considered. Peter wasn’t just some play thing that could be controlled like a dog. Sure, the bracelet was more or less a fancy collar on his wrist, but he was Spider-Man for Christs’ sake. He’d thrown countless villains in jail, this shouldn’t be any different from any other fight that he’d had in the past. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? It was so much different from any other fight he’d ever had. None of the people that he’d fought in the past knew so much about him and that was terrifying. 

San Francisco made it painfully clear that this was Tony Stark’s world, they were all just living in it. If you wanted to get by in that world, you had to pay for Extremis, because everyone always put too much stock into vanity. None of that had mattered to Peter, and maybe that’s one of the reasons why Tony found him so dangerous. Peter didn’t care about what people thought of him as long as his loved ones still believed that he was doing the right thing, still fighting for the little guy. Not being a part of some big super team had always seemed like a bad idea, given that sure they fought the really big battles, but they left their home unprotected. And with that oversight, it let people like Tony come in and ruin everything with his disease that he was selling as if it was the cure to cancer. 

So he ran. He had no idea where he was running to as he ran as he passed countless doorways. He didn’t see anyone else down here, but he was almost positive he was running in circles as he rounded a corner. That’s when he saw it, at the end of the hallway, his shining ray of hope. There, looking as innocent as ever, was a pristine looking elevator amidst the maze of halls that he’d just ran through. He could almost cry as he quickly scrambled inside the sleek elevator before punching the wall in frustration. There were absolutely no buttons in the stupid elevator, which honestly, was more idiotic than anything else. What if there was some sort of emergency and someone needed to call for help but couldn’t because there were no buttons? 

That’s of course, when Peter remembered Tony’s affinity for artificial intelligence. “Hello?” he asked, his voice quivering as he stared at the ceiling. All he got for his efforts was a spirit crippling silence. 

“Peter!” a distant voice roared as he scrambled to find an emergency escape hatch or something. He was met with nothing but sleek, seamless metal and a nagging feeling in his stomach that said that things were about to get so much worse. 

He was cornered like a rabbit about to get eaten alive by a hungry wolf as Stark’s figure loomed ever closer. By the time he finally reached the open elevator, Peter had steeled himself to at least try and fight as he fell into a loose fighting stance. He took a deep breath, hoping to calm himself down as he put up his fists. “I want to go home, Stark. You can’t keep me here like some animal. I’m not a little trophy for you to stare at because I hate to break it to you, but I’ve faced worse people than you.

Tony came to a stop just outside the open doors, his angry look melting into one of consideration. “You know what, you’re right. I can’t keep you here. I’ll get what I want, you can count on that,” Stark hummed before he nodded to himself. “Friday, take him up to the ground level.” Peter didn’t even have time to ask the man what me meant by his statement before the doors were sliding shut in his face. 

Peter didn’t have his powers, but that was something he was sure he’d be able to fix given a little time and the right solution. He was Spider-Man. If he could figure out how to make webbing at fourteen, he should be able to figure out how to take off a stupid bracelet.

When the doors finally slid open, they revealed… The Stark Industries main lobby. Peter, when he was still interning under Tony, had gone through the lobby several times to get to and from the labs. He hadn’t realized there was a whole labyrinth under the tower though. They hadn’t come up on any of the blueprints for the building after all, but why would they? Tony probably paid off the building company to only include the so called important things. As if a whole underground maze wasn’t important, but he was getting off track. 

He didn’t hesitate to quickly exit the building, only breathing a sigh of relief when he was a few blocks away. “Okay, focus,” Peter ordered himself, taking a deep breath as he calculated his next course of action. Given that he didn’t have his suit, phone, or even his wallet, he didn’t really have that many options on ways to get around. Meaning he’d definitely be walking all the way back to his tiny little apartment, which was on the other side of the island.

“Okay okay, just a minor setback,” he told himself as he made his way to the subway. He had never been more thankful about the fact that the subway security was dismal at best as he snuck through, only letting out the breath he’d been holding when he got to the other side and could actually board the train. He felt gross, but that was to be expected, given that he was still unsure how many days he’d been out of commission. He really hoped that nothing crazy had happened while he’d been out. He stayed on the train all the way to Chinatown, getting out at his stop as he made his way through the familiar streets. Sure, staying in Chinatown wasn’t the most glamorous of living arrangements, but that’s what he could afford because he couldn’t just keep living with his aunt forever.

It didn’t take him too long to basically break into his own apartment, closing the door behind him as he slid down so that his back was resting against the wood. He sat there for a few moments before getting up to get his shit together, or at least figure out what he was going to do from this point on. He wasn’t sure who he could trust given that Stark had literally told him to his face that his loved ones had been given Extremis. They were normal people, making them powerless to its effects if what Tony said was true. He wasn’t even sure if they knew that they’d done the worst possible thing for his health. But that didn’t matter. Tony had succeeded in making him paranoid. 

He couldn’t trust anyone, both in and out of the mask and that was fine. He’d been dealt a worse hand before. Then again, had he? Sure, he’d had buildings dropped on him and been beaten within an inch of his life, but this… This was different. Stark wasn’t coming for him personally, at least not in the traditional villainy sense. He didn’t understand why either. Stark had said something about him being physically perfect, but that didn’t make any sense to him. Had the man been profiling him?

Peter wasn’t sure how long he just stood there asking himself more questions he didn’t have any answers to. He shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts away before focusing back on the task at hand. He dug through his things before pulling out his phone. He only kept his burner phone on him when he was out patrolling, as he really couldn’t afford to keep replacing the screen every time he got thrown into a wall as he’d lost too many phones that way. When he turned it on and saw all of his missed notifications he groaned.  
He’d been out of commission for a week. He had calls from his landlord, his fiends, his aunt, and worst of all his job. Peter scrambled to go through his phone, quickly putting it on speaker as he put his phone down on his bed. 

Jameson’s angry voice was of course exactly what he had been expecting, but he couldn’t say that he enjoyed hearing it when he was most definitely in trouble. Granted, he was always in trouble with that man, but that was just because there was absolutely no pleasing him. “Mr. Parker! Due to your absence and your failure to bring me even scraps this week, you’re fired! Effective immediately! I’ve been generous with your extension, but I can’t put up with your total disregard of my time anymore. This was the last straw. If your stuff isn’t cleared out from your desk by tomorrow, I’m throwing it away!” Peter stood there, frozen, as his life truly started to fizzle out of control. It wasn’t until the next message started to play that he actually moved, quickly turning off his phone so he didn’t have to hear how concerned his aunt was about him missing their weekly dinner without so much as a text. He’d make it up to her later.

In the meantime, he had to figure out how to pay his rent so that he didn’t add homelessness to his growing pile of problems. Sure, losing his job at the Daily Bugle wasn’t ideal, given that he had been allowed to make his own hours for the most part, given that he always turned something amazing in. But since he’d been gone for a week, and by extension, so had Spider-Man, it really wasn’t all that surprising that he had absolutely nothing for his troubles. He needed a game plan and fast. 

“Shoot-out on the corner of 5th and Madison. Requesting back-up,” Peter’s police scanner crackled, making the tired man sigh in resignation. He had work to do.


	3. Not So Stab-le Condition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and the very bad no good day. He just wants to sleep. And also not be dealing with this.

Peter was exhausted. Absolutely and undeniably exhausted. What had started off as what he  thought was a slow night had, without a shadow of a doubt, turned into a night of crime after crime after crime. It was as if the crime rate had quadrupled over the week he’d been gone, honestly making him never want to take a vacation if this is the kind of mess he had to come home to. Instead, he put in grueling hours of fighting bad guys, getting shot or stabbed at, only to web up the culprits, call the police, and move on. He had been about to take a bite of a hotdog when he heard yet another cry for help, making him completely forget that he hadn’t eaten in probably a week as he threw himself off the building he’d been perched on. 

If he had to guess, he assumed that the sudden release of Extremis in the city’s borders was to blame for the sudden influx of crime, but since he didn’t have any proof to back up his theory it was impossible to actually pin it on Stark. Even if it was most definitely his fault that Peter was busting ass and basically getting beaten within an inch of his life because he was almost too tired to stand let alone avoid bullets and various stab wounds. One of which was the most alarming, given that it had completely turned the blue on his side a really nasty looking reddish-purple. It was about the time that he started seeing black spots in his vision that he decided he’d call it a night and try to get some sleep. 

It wasn’t until he had crawled through his window, already in the process of passing out on his bed that he realized he’d never checked in with anyone about coming back from his unplanned week of being kidnapped by what had to be the worst timeline’s Tony Stark. Half delirious with a severe lack of sleep, he decided he’d worry about it tomorrow. 

However, see, the thing about being Spider-Man, was that he didn’t get to just take a break or a day off because he was tired because literally three hours later he was out swinging again. He was being fueled by half a can of Red Bull and an energy bar that had more or less been thrown at him by Michelle the last time he’d actually seen her. Not that he was planning to see her again because he just wasn’t sure who he could trust when Stark had basically told him flat out to his face that he couldn’t trust  anyone . And sure, maybe distancing himself from his friends and family was a terrible course of action but he didn’t really think that through. Not that he really thought anything through these days. No, he spent way too much time overthinking everything to really think things through. Especially running on next to no sleep. 

So even though it was a  terrible idea to fight crime in his current condition, he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to just go home and rest. Oh no, his inner voice kept insisting that since he’d slept most of the week (from what he could remember anyway, considering he passed out and then woke up on that nice bed) with Stark, that he was  fine . 

He was most certainly  not fine, but don’t tell him that because he wouldn’t listen to reason anyway. Oh no, it wasn’t really until he was dealing with his thirteenth mugging that really things went from bad to probably worse.

In true Spider-Man fashion, the longer Peter fought this guy, the more wobbly he was getting. He wasn’t even sure if he’d been fighting him for like two minutes or two hours because with this sweat he was breaking out in, it felt like eternity.

“You must be some lame, cheap knock-off Spidey! Must be my lucky day!” Bad guy number who is actually keeping score of these things rambled while he literally stabbed Peter in his side. 

Peter stared at the knife sticking out of his side blankly before he burst into a fit of giggles, you know, kind of like a deranged person. “Knife you meet you!” he wheezed, stumbling onto the ground as black spots continued to dance across his vision. That’s of course when the man started backing up, shouting to his buddies that the spider guy was insane but it didn’t  matter . He wasn’t fighting at his best because the stupid bracelet on his wrist was dampening his powers. Or maybe it wasn’t, he didn’t know because wow, he didn’t remember this much red in his Spidey costume.

That was the last thing he remembered before a metal clang echoed around the alley that he was in before passing out. He didn’t see that it was Tony’s suit smoothly landing next to him, nor did he register that he was picked up and lightly examined before they flew off to who knows where. And he certainly didn’t remember Tony hastily cutting his suit off of him so that he could take the knife out and stitched up his side. No pain registered in his mind as he slept for the first time in the last three days.

What he could say, that without a doubt, he was strapped to the exact same bed that he’d been cuffed to before. He could feel it, even without opening his eyes. Peter groaned in complaint because this  really needed to stop happening. He felt like he was actually losing his mind. “You know, I’ve been watching you closely since you left. And I have to say, Pete… I’m very disappointed. You haven’t been very responsible… Not for yourself or your job… What would your friends and aunt say, hmmm?” 

Peter opened his eyes, jerking his head in Tony’s direction, only to find out that the man wasn’t even in the room. “What the-”

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m currently in a meeting, but don’t you fret, I’ll be down as soon as I’m done to deal with your ill behavior. Doesn’t that sound exciting?” Peter growled low in his throat, struggling against the bonds that were basically impossible for him to break when his powers were dampened like this. Or maybe he just wasn’t as strong as he liked to think that he was?

He took a few deep breaths, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to get his bearings in order. He wasn’t sure how long Stark took to open the door, but it really did feel like forever before the man in question finally walked in and made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed. 

“You haven’t been eating. Or sleeping. But instead, you’ve been gallivanting around wearing pajamas and getting stabbed? I’m sorry, but if you can’t take care of yourself, you’re going to force me to have to take care of you for you. Is that what you want?” Peter couldn’t nod his head any harder, making Tony sigh. “I’m trying to be patient with you. Stay by my side, here in Stark Tower. You’d want for nothing. The whole city would bend for you,” he hummed, as if that was something that Peter wanted, now or ever. He wasn’t an egotistical maniac that needed everything in his fake version of the world. Stark’s plan for the future was to blind everyone into thinking Extremis was some great miracle drug that would make them perfect, only to go savage the moment they couldn’t pay for it anymore.

Peter bit his lip to the point of bleeding, barely even flinching at the dull pain. “I don’t want anything you have to offer Stark. Not your money, not your power, nothing. The only thing I want you can’t give me because it can’t be  bought ,” he snarled, turning away from the man in front of him in disgust.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Peter. Everything and everyone can be bought. Everyone has their price. Even you.” He doubted it, but it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Peter was already contaminated with Extremis, or so Stark said. It was hard to trust anything the man said considering it was half lies anyway. Lies to keep him under his boat like some ant that needed squashing if even a toe was out of line. Or maybe a spider would be better, all things considered. 

“I will never come live with you. You disgust me, Stark. I used to look up to you because you were a real hero. Now you’re only in it for yourself. You make me sick.”

Tony didn’t seem to mind all the harsh words that Peter was throwing at him, in fact, he seemed to delight in them. “I was never a hero. I was just a god playing human, and that game has long since ended. But that’s okay, Peter. You’ll come to me, I can promise you that. The more you struggle, the sweeter my victory over you will be,” the man hummed before he got up. On his way out the door he patted Peter’s knee. “You’ll see. You’ll all see,” he hummed and then he was gone.

Peter wasn’t even sure how he was supposed to take that confession. It put a sour taste in the back of his throat as well as a rock in the pit of his stomach. What was the man planning to do to him to make him stay? Was he planning on breaking him? Stark just wanted to own him right? But still, even if that was the case, it didn’t leave Peter feeling great. Spider-Man didn’t have a place in Stark’s agenda, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with the man. Especially because he was seriously creeping him out. The unsettling blue in his eyes made his stomach churn to even look at and their image was basically burned into his retinas. 

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there. He’d pulled at his restraints more, but there was no give for him to actually make any progress in getting them off so he could leave this terrible place. Instead, all he got for his troubles was nothing but bruises on his wrists that honestly wasn’t ideal. And it wasn’t really until his bladder demanded attention that he realized he had to go to the bathroom. “Stark?”

Silence.

“Stark?”

Deafening silence. 

“Please, I… I gotta go to the bathroom…”

Deafening, soul crushing silence. That’s all he was met with. 

Since he’d gotten here, he hadn’t even been able to check his stab wound, nor had he actually eaten. He wasn’t sure which one was worse, considering that his whole side was just more or less numb. Clearly, Stark had given him something, even though he wasn’t really sure why he’d even bother. Maybe it was so Peter had less to focus on? Pain was distracting after all and he was sure that the man wanted Peter trapped in his head with only his own voice as company. 

“Please, I promise I won’t try anything, I just wanna move around a little bit.” He even meant it for the most part. He just wanted to move, expel some of his pent up energy. Just laying, in the same spot, for hours at a time, really wasn’t how he had planned on spending his time after all. He was Spider-Man and used to a lot of moving around. Staying in one place was only something he did when he was sleeping and even then he squirmed and repositioned himself constantly. At least that’s what he’d been told though. He only really was still while he slept when he was dead tired. Which he was obviously most certainly not while he mindlessly stared at the ceiling. The cold concrete had no blemishes, which made it the opposite of interesting to stare at. 

The silence in the room seemed to drag on before there was suddenly a soft click, his restraints suddenly falling away. Peter blinked in surprise at the ceiling before scrambling to the tiny little bathroom in the corner, more than happy to relieve himself. He didn’t have any extra clothes after all. Stark probably did, but Peter didn’t want charity. After Peter was done with his business, he fixed his pants, washed his hands, and then sat himself down at the little desk chair. 

He wasn’t sure how long he could go on like this. But he did know one thing, and it was that it certainly wasn’t going to be forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyy chapter three! So glad we've gotten this far! And to think, I am nowhere near where I want to be yet. I can't believe this is already at 7k words, like wow. Updates are sporadic as I just started a new business using my cosplay skills to make masks for people. I'll do my best to be here though!

**Author's Note:**

> This has been haunting me since January. Hopefully it'll become more than what it is tbh, because I have big plans for it. But, regardless, let me know what you think!
> 
> If you want to chat about it, you can join my Discord server https://discord.gg/B4gt9fj or you could look me up by looking up SteveDoesCosplay or SteveDoesCospla because some places are stupid about name lengths. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed and I hope to bring you more in the future!


End file.
